Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
Author: Elamae
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: FRAO overall - FRC this section
Category: Slash, angst, H/C
Status: Finished
Archive: Yes
Feedback: Please, always appreciated.
Email: [email protected]
Authors Web Site: www.geocities.com/elamae1 (beware - very much under
construction)
Series/Sequel: 14 parts in all. No sequel planned, but if I get
inspired you never know...
Disclaimers: I don't own or have anything to do with CSI. This story
is purely a work of my own imagination and done profit free.
Authors Notes: My first fic in this fandom so I apologise for any
discrepancies, please let me know about any mistakes in character or
canon history. There may also be mistakes in the timeling of the
story. It's taken me quite a while to finish it so I forget what
I've had happening when.
Spoilers: None that I can think of.
Summary: During one of their current cases, the CSI's find out
something about Greg's past. (sorry suck at summaries...)
Warnings: This story does deal with male rape. If that is going to
squick you out in any way please don't read. However there's nothing
really graphic, just some description.
Part 1:
"Oh. My God."
The dead tone to Catherine's voice caused Sara to look up, a frown
creasing her striking face.
"What's the matter?" The intense look on her colleagues' face as she
studied the paper in front of her, had Sara moving back across from
where she had been hovering by the door, She sat back down next to
Catherine.
"You know, Brass sent over the case history on this guy?"
"Yeah. He's been suspected in other past rapes, five and.." she
paused.
"Eight years ago," Catherine supplied.
"Yeah, eight years ago. But he was never convicted. Lack of
evidence." She paused again. "Is that what you're looking at?"
"Yeah."
Sara waited patiently for Catherine to explain further. Eventually,
Catherine sighed and put the report down on the table in front of
her, using one finger to slide it over to where Sara was. "Past
victims." She steepled her fingers together in front of her mouth.
Sara reached over and plucked the report off the table, casting her
eyes over it.
"Victim five years ago was a Paul Robertson, 22 years old, law school
graduate." Catherine recited from memory. "Two months away from
taking up a position at Mellons and Blackstock, prestigious Chicago
law firm. Ed Monan was questioned by the Chicago cops but evidence
was slim to none and although his alibi was dodgy it held up. He'd
been working there as a sales rep at the time."
Catherine looked over to where Sara was reading, recognising her
reaction when she hit the same bit she had just minutes before.
"Victim eight years ago," she hesitated for a moment, "was a Greg
Sanders." She met and held Sara's shocked eyes. "Age 19. First year
student at Berkeley. Monan was over there apparently on a business
trip same time. His name was bounded around but he hadn't' even make
it as far as questioning that time. Whole case was pretty shaky."
Sara was staring at Catherine. Breaking her gaze, she looked back
down at the police report, her expression one of complete disbelief.
Eventually she found her voice. "Our Greg?" Her voice was soft,
almost scratchy. She tried again, coughing slightly to clear her
throat. "*Our* Greg?"
Catherine nodded slowly. "We'll need to check out the police's
detailed file, but age, location circumstance; it all matches. We
know Greg was there at that time, that age." She closed her eyes and
breathed out slowly.
"This is going to be difficult."
Catherine snorted a laugh devoid of any humour. "You don't say."
*******
"Grissom?"
"I take it you've spoken to Brass then?"
Catherine entered Gil Grissom's office, following the voice and
finding the man in question sat at his desk, head bent over a stack
of reports.
"You know?" She reached back and closed the door behind her,
conscious of the amount of traffic the hallways carried.
"Brass saw the report and called."
"It's true then? You've confirmed it?"
Grissom hesitated, uncharacteristically avoiding eye contact for a
moment, before looking up and nodding.
"Christ."
Grissom let out a breath in agreement.
"Has anyone approached Greg yet?"
"No." Grissom found his gaze wandering, even though he couldn't
directly see it, in the direction of the DNA/Chem lab. "I wanted to
get confirmation from Brass first and then speak with you and Sara."
"How do you start with something like this?" Catherine sank back
into the chair. "Hey Greg. How are you? I need to ask you
something, were you ever raped as a teenager?" She rested her head
in her hands. "How on earth do you broach a subject like this?"
"Directly," he replied. "But with as much discretion and respect as
possible."
Catherine nodded.
"What do we need to know from him?"
Catherine flipped over the folder in her hand. "Not much really,
most of it is in the original police report. We just need to go over
a couple of bits from his statement, a few details. Eight years ago;
its doubtful we're going to link it after all this time but as this
guys names is mentioned in *his* investigation, we need to check it
out. Victim, MO; it all fits. Both with Greg's case and the one
three years later."
"Plus, now we know its him, its courtesy."
"Exactly."
"Do you want me to talk to him?"
"No. Thanks, but Sara and I can do it. Besides, he might take it
better from a woman."
*******
Not that much better she mused. The sounds of retching were only
just audible from outside the men's bathroom, but Catherine found
herself wincing all the same. She and Sara had agreed that it should
he her who spoke to Greg, feeling that just one of them would be less
intimidating.
She didn't think she would ever forget the way the colour had drained
from his face. The way his eyes had widened, the brown irises deep,
fathomless and full of shock...and suppressed fear. He'd listened
quietly as she gently explained the case to him and the situation,
pausing to let it all sink before suddenly pushing himself up and
away from the table and out through the doorway in a blur of lab coat
and spiky hair. She'd hurried after him, concerned, getting there
just in time to see him disappear into the men's room.
Nick came down the hallway just then and on seeing Catherine, smiled
and walked over.
"Hey, Catherine, why......" He stopped on seeing her
expression. "What's wrong?" He paused, tilting his head and
listening. "Is that someone being sick?"
Catherine nodded grimly. "Greg."
"Greg?" Nick frowned, one hand already rising up to the door ready
to enter. "Is he alright?"
"Nick, no" She said quickly, one hand reaching out. He frowned.
Catherine sighed. "Look, I just told Greg about a current case we're
investigating." She laid a hand on his arm. "I can't tell you any
more, I'm sorry."
Nick's eyes flickered between her and the door with what Catherine
clearly recognised as genuine concern. He looked at her and then
backed away.
"Could you make sure no one comes in okay?"
Nick nodded, eyes still showing worry. "Sure."
As she entered the bathroom, the first thing she noticed was the
faint stench of vomit. Casting her eyes around she saw the end
cubicle door ajar. She moved closer.
"Greg?"
There was scuffling sound, the door clanking slightly. A sniffling
sound came from inside the cubicle, followed by the sound of a throat
being cleared.
Catherine moved round bit further. There, just inside the cubicle,
Greg was sat on the floor, his back against the wall, knees pulled up
under his chin. As Catherine came into view he glanced up, raising a
hand to wipe his mouth.
"Sorry," he croaked softly.
Catherine shook her head. "Hey, s'okay." She crouched down slowly.
He took a breath. "I didn't think.... I thought after all this
time...." He looked down.
She knelt on the floor next to him. He glanced over at her again,
both hands laced together covering his mouth. "You kid yourself
you'll forget. You do sometimes. But never completely." He paused
and then flashed her a grin, a poor shaky copy of the one she was
used to seeing from the lab tech. She looked down at his hands and
saw that they were shaking, a constant tremor running through them.
"Greg, lets go get you a drink."
He took a breath. "You need to ask me about it, don't you?"
"Yes, I do."
He sighed.
"I'm sorry. I have to."
"I know."
Part 2:
"Who else knows?"
They were both sat in the break room, Greg sat on the couch, legs
crossed in front of him, feet tucked underneath like a five year old.
"Just me and Sara. And Grissom."
"Not Warwick or Nick?"
"No. Not unless you want to tell them."
He nodded absently, chewing on a thumb nail. He took a breath. "So
what do you want to know?" He turned his gaze on her.
*******
Nick had been warned, along with everyone else, that the break room
would be out of bounds for about an hour. Unlike everyone else
though, he knew it was because Catherine was talking to Greg in
there. Others just presumed it was something to do with a case.
Which of course it was, if what Catherine said was true.
As he passed down the corridor for about the fifth time, his eyes
drifted to the glass windows to the room, even though the blinds has
been shut. He could still imagine Greg sat behind them though.
He had no idea what he was feeling right now. Only that this was the
fifth circuit he'd made down this corridor and he couldn't even
recall what the excuse for the last four had been. Ever since he'd
come across Greg being ill in the bathroom earlier he hadn't been
able to get his mind off him. He considered Greg a friend, a good
friend even but that didn't explain the way his feelings were
spiralling.
He knew, if he looked deep inside himself far enough. He knew where
his feelings for the younger man were heading, had already head if he
were honest, but he was reluctant to acknowledge them. There had
always been the fear of destroying the friendship and relationship
they already had, which he treasured more than anything. The fear
that he would alienate the man, push him away and ruin the working
family the six of them had built up over the last three years.
Ever since he'd met Greg on his first day in the unit, he'd known.
Known that it would be so easy to fall for the man. In a big way.
His humour, quirkiness, honest and kind nature, out going and
rambunctious personality that actually hid an innocence most people
overlooked or missed. Not to mention the physical attraction. The
guy was gorgeous, even with his experimental hair and under those
loud shirts and lab coat hid a slim and toned body. The one occasion
Nick had come across Greg in the communal lockers wearing nothing but
his jeans had been an evening that had imprinted itself on his
memory, loaded for instant replay.
Nick had realised from an early age that he was what people would
categorise as bisexual. It had taken him a long time to come to
terms with his sexuality. Growing up in Texas and coming from a law
enforcement family had reinforced years of confusion, depression and
guilt. Now though, having moved away, made a life for himself and
worked hard at accepting and embracing what and who he desired, he
was at peace with himself, content in who he was.
Over the years he'd only ever had two relationships with other men,
the rest with women. Not through any conscious decision though,
there had only ever been two men he'd met who he had wanted to take
things further with. He'd never told anyone at work, either here in
Las Vegas or before, two homosexual relationships did not a workplace
confession warrant. For now he was content in keeping his personal
preferences, personal.
He knew though, that what he was feeling for Greg was becoming
stronger. But he had no idea how Greg would react. He'd never got
any gay vibes off the other man but then his 'gaydar' had never been
very good. All of Greg's flirting and behaviour seemed to be
definitely pointed at the female populace, but he couldn't help but
reason that Greg's flirting pretty much included everyone, from Sara
right through to Grissom himself.
Not that any of this mattered right now though, he thought, as he
passed the break room for the sixth time. Right now Greg needed a
friend because what he wanted to know, was what on earth Catherine
had told Greg, that had actually made him physically ill.
*******
"Are you going to be okay?"
Catherine was sat next to Greg, watching him carefully. He'd made it
through the interview surprisingly well. Maybe too well in her
opinion as she eyed him worriedly. He'd stumbled, faltered in his
voice though not in what he was telling her. He'd remembered
everything as it had been put down in the original statement.
Emotionally he looked as though he'd been through the wringer, but
he'd made it through without spilling a tear. Something that
personally he was immensely pleased about.
He nodded. "Yeah." he smiled ruefully. "I don't think I'd better
be let near anything flammable right now, but, no, I'm okay."
Catherine looked at her watch. "Look it's only an hour til the end
of shift. Knock off early. Go home, get some rest."
"No, its okay. I'm fine really....."
Catherine gave him a look. "Greg, one of your bosses just gave you
permission to skive off work early. Accept this *very* infrequently
bequeathed gift with both hands." She grinned to take the sting out
of the order.
When he paused and then nodded, she breathed a mental sigh of
relief. In her opinion he looked pale enough to pass out.
"We'll let you know what happens at every stage, okay?" she continued
in a soft voice.
He nodded. "I'd appreciate that. Eight years gives you a lot of time
to sort stuff out. I came to terms with the fact years ago, that I'd
never find the guy who did this." He paused again. "But if there's a
chance to find that bastard...." he trailed off.
Catherine nodded, an unspoken promise in her eyes.
*******
Nick was in the locker room when Greg came in. One hand poised in
the middle of snagging a clean shirt from his locker. "Hey," he
offered, slightly unsure.
"Hey," Greg returned softly, heading straight to his locker. He
shrugged his lab coat off, grabbing his bag from inside.
"You off?"
Greg nodded. "Catherine just gave me the rest of the night off."
"Oh." Nick pulled his shirt on. "Hey, do you want a lift?"
Greg turned, a looked a question on his face. "I've finished for the
night and I'm owed like a trillion hours anyway. I was going to head
off early." He paused, weighing his next words carefully. Catherine
had caught up with him not long ago, asking him if he wouldn't mind
giving Greg a lift home. Something he had readily agreed to. She'd
been tight lipped about the reason why, but he could see the concern
in her eyes. "Wanna catch some breakfast? My shout."
Greg fiddled with the lock on his door for a moment. Nick turned
round fully, taking a breath. "Look, I know Catherine was talking to
you earlier about a case." He saw the flinch. "I don't know what it
was about. If you want to go home and kick back by yourself I won't
take offence. I'll just drop you off at yours, but, if you fancy a
bit of company."
Greg stayed silent for a few moments before looking at Nick, a small
smile on his face. "I'd like that."
Nick grinned and shut his locker door.
*******
They were sat in the corner of one of Nick's favourite all night
diners tucking into their respective breakfasts. Well, Nick was.
Greg was sat hunched over, fork held loosely in one hand, prodding a
rather cold pancake around his plate. Nick glanced over at the
unusually quiet lab tech. His eyes were cast down staring at the
plate intently as if it held all the answers of the universe within
its white porcelain.
Finally, he put the fork down and picked up his coffee to cradle in
between his two hands. He glanced up at Nick.
"It's Catherine and Sara's current case," he said finally.
"Hmm?"
"What Catherine was talking to me about." He took a sip of the
coffee before placing it back on the table to nervously pick at the
edge of the table cloth.
"The Monan case?" Nick asked, frowning when Greg nodded. "Guy's
accused of raping that teenage kid. What did Cat have..." He trailed
off, suspicion clouded his mind. His eyes shot up, sudden
realisation on his face. "Greg?"
"Sorry, I need to....." With a squeal of chair legs against the tiled
floor, Greg stood suddenly and throwing some bills on the table,
grabbed his bag and hurried towards the door.
Nick, taken by surprise, grabbed his wallet, almost dropping it in
his haste and added his share to the bill before grabbing his coat
and hurrying after Greg.
He caught up with him not far from the diner, spotting a familiar
figure sat down on a wall about half a block away. Moving carefully,
Nick walked slowly up to him, making sure he alerted Greg to his
presence. If his suspicions were correct, the last thing he wanted
to do was creep up on the guy. Sitting down next to him he waited.
"Sorry," came the soft voice.
"What for?"
"I....I just freaked out there for a moment." Nick heard him take a
breath. "I hadn't planned on telling anyone else."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Nick didn't think Greg was going to answer, but after a few moments
Greg looked over, eyes squinting in the morning sun. "Do you want to
come over and see my fish?"
*******
Nick had never been to Greg's place before. It was small, but cosy,
cluttered but organised. Film posters adorned the walls, videos and
CDs cluttered the bookcases in-between the numerous books
themselves. A variety of fiction books found themselves squeezed in-
between the science and chemistry textbooks, themselves adorned with
various science journals and entertainment magazines.
Following Greg, he found himself in the kitchen as the other man
puttered around busily. Leaning against the counter he observed the
slim figure moving between cupboards totally absorbed in his task.
"You shouldn't really be having coffee, not if you want to get any
sleep today." Nick observed lightly, as the coffee container emerged
onto the counter.
"I don't think I'll be sleeping much today anyway." Greg flashed him
a shadow of his usual crooked grin. "Coffee won't hurt. I'll get so
wired I'll just burn out and pass out anyway." He shrugged, looking
away. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Nick frowned, but said nothing.
"So where's these mythical fish of yours?" He watched the most real
smile he'd seen from Greg that night flash across his face. He
jerked a hand over his shoulder. "Over in the living room, in the
corner. Don't go scaring Gerty though, she's very shy."
I'll be careful," Nick smirked. Walking through the archway back
into the living room, he case his eyes about until he saw the ample
but unobtrusive tank in the corner. Leaning over he watched the
small fish swimming back and forth in front of him, smiling when one
of them almost seem to dance at him. It was strangle comforting to
watch them and Nick found himself almost hypnotised by their gentle
swimming.
"Hey, Gerty. Hope Arthur's behaving himself today." The soft voice
next to him broke his concentration. Greg's finger brushed the glass
gently over one of the fish. He smiled before stepping back towards
the couch, draping himself over the end, and pulling his feet up
underneath him. He leant his head to the side, gazing out of the
window behind it.
Nick moved over to sit on the opposite end of the couch. "Do you
want to tell me about it?" he asked softly.
Greg seemed to contemplate the view out of the window for a long time
before answering. "Catherine and Sara think I may have been one of
this guys first victims, eight years ago."
Nick felt a flash of pain as his suspicions were confirmed. "You
were....you were raped?"
Greg nodded slowly. "When I was at Berkeley. First year." He
snorted. "Really messed up my midterms."
"Jesus," Nick said softly. He looked at Greg. I'm sorry."
"No," Greg turned to meet his gaze, eyes flashing, "Don't tell me
you're sorry. I know..." He stopped, closing his eyes briefly. "I
know you're sorry," he continued, his voice softer, "it's just I've
had a lifetime of people saying they're sorry and it...."He flashed
another grin, still slightly shaky. "It's been eight years. I'm
okay."
"Is that why you've never told any of us?"
"Well, its not exactly the type of thing that's easy to bring up into
conversation is it? Especially at work. And no, its not like its
the nicest thing to have everybody know about either.
It's...personal.....and in the past." He quirked his lip. "At least
I thought it was." He gazed out of the window again. " I thought it
had been buried and forgotten. I mean, not forgotten, cos you
never.... but you know. In the past. Like I told Catherine, I just
never thought it would ever come up again. It was dead and buried.
I fought a long time to get it to stay there."
"And then we go and dig it up again."
"It's not their fault." He took a breath. "God, that's one thing I
did learn after all this time. It's no one's fault but that sick
bastard's. I just.....you just learn to live with it."
There was silence for a few minutes.
"Are you okay with this?"
"What do you mean?" Nick gazed at Greg, hearing the slight quiver of
uncertainty in his voice.
Greg stared at the threadbare throw that was on the back of the
couch, worrying it with his finger. "With this?" He gestured his
hand slightly. "It must be a bit weird to find this out about...a
friend." He hesitated over the word, just long enough for Nick to
pick up on it.
Nick nodded. "I must admit it a shock to find this out. Find out a
friend of mine was attacked, I won't say it isn't, but right now all
I'm feeling is anger." Greg turned suddenly apprehensive eyes to
Nick who returned the look and carried on, his voice soft. "Anger
and helplessness." Greg's look softened, his eyebrows knit
slightly. "Helpless that something really bad happened to my friend
before I met him. Before I could do anything to prevent it." He
held Greg's gaze. "But I want to help now. If I can."
*******
"Do you mind me asking what happened? I mean, if you don't want to
tell me, don't worry," he added quickly, worry creasing his
expression. "I'm not prying."
"It's okay, Nick, I don't mind you asking." He took a breath. "And
to be honest its still fairly fresh in my mind after telling
Catherine so it's probably the best time to ask. It's still...there."
"You don't have to if you don't want to. If you don't want me to
know."
"No, I think." He paused. "I think I need to." He looked steadily
at Nick who nodded. He fidgeted with the couch cover for a few
moments, his face an unreadible mix of emotions. "It was in my first
year at Berkeley. Just after Christmas. I'd been out with some
friends to a couple of bars, post festive drink, you know?" Nick
found himself nodding even though Greg wasn't looking at him. "I'd
split up from my friends, they lived at a different campus so they
went a different way back. One of the streets not far from the bar,
I had a feeling someone was watching me, but I couldn't see anyone,
anything, so I kept going. I was only about half a block away from
my dorm when someone grabbed me. Hit me with something, slmost
knocked me out and the next thing I knew, he'd dragged me into this
van. Gagged me and tied my wrists together before I even knew what
was happening. I didn't know what he was going to do, but I was so
scared. " He met Nick's eyes and Nick could see the layers of old
fear still resting in the brown depths even now eight years later.
"When he started fumbling with my jeans I knew then what he wanted,"
Greg's voice grew quieter. "I struggled and tried to kick out but
he'd got me pinned down pretty good." His gaze drifted off to the
side, eyes staring at nothing but the past. "When he...forced
himself inside....." he broke off, wetting his lips nervously, "it
hurt so badly. I was screaming through the gag, so he hit me round
the head again to shut me up. When he'd...finished...." He paused
to rub his fingers into his eyes. "He opened the door and pushed me
out into the street. I managed to crawl back to the pavement as he
drove off. I don't know long I was there before some others students
came by, on their way back to my campus. They took me to the police
station."
"You reported it?"
"Yeah." He stretched out his legs from under him. "If those guys
hadn't have come along, I don't know whether I would have or not.
It's something I've thought about a lot since then. But when they
found me I was pretty catatonic. I think they guessed fairly quickly
what had happened. They were great though, just took charge without
ever seemingly threatening. Took me straight to the police station
where I was examined. They took a statement." He let out a
sigh. "In one way it was pretty horrible because it was just another
thing that night that I had no control over, everything just sort of
happened, without much consent from me. The exam, the report, the
statement. But on the other hand, as I said, I don't know whether I
would have reported it if it had been left up to me. If I had been
on my own."
"It's good you did." Nick stated softly, think back to his own
childhood.
Greg nodded. "I know that now. It took me a while to understand that
though. But I'll be forever grateful to those guys for the rest of
my life."
continued in parts 3 and 4